All that is left in the light
wrapped around budding
arms and legs
is allegory - more than
sturdy planks spanning
places I’ll never go.

Give me time
to lose the ephemeral
cogs in all their
sublime diligence;
they have yet to see
the promise of
benign but not
omniscient though
you know I wish it was.

Could we carry this dialogue
into a new century
with grace?

I think not, this calender year
is intimidating and

I wonder where it gets
the audacity to categorize
weeks I can recall only in
abrupt recollections of aesthetic,
still beyond the reach
of my hapless syntax....

"Art is always and everywhere the secret confession, and at the same time the immortal movement of its time."

Last edited by UncleRemus at Apr 27, 2011,
I had some trouble following this, and I think it's primarily because it's a bit too abstract, and you're stretching with some metaphors. I had no idea what you were talking about in the first stanza. I'm not sure what "ephemeral cogs" refers to...I'm guessing this piece has something to do with the inevitable and somewhat threatening passage of time, but what I'm missing here is what is at stake.
art tumblr

If I'm not raw, I'm just a bit underdone.
Hey, thanks for the insight! Often, I try to create an atmosphere or feeling rather than a really solid idea when I write and I think that maybe I lose sight of what it is I'm actually writing about (or at least, make it difficult for the reader to discern this). It's good to hear someone point out a lack of clarity that I would not have otherwise noticed. You were right about this piece's connection to the passage of time but I was trying more to evoke the feeling of loss that comes with this concept.... A fear more of time that has already passed than of its looming threat but also a fear of the (as you said) inevitability of it all. I hope this helps to clear up the theme here.


"Art is always and everywhere the secret confession, and at the same time the immortal movement of its time."

I thought the first line could be more impactfull syntactically, monosyllabic words don't normally do good openings because they spit themselves out and are harder to distinguish than longer words, so they look a bit dull and plodding. I also think you should consider your line breaks more, some of these felt almost random. The last three stanzas were perfectly broken, but I didn't think the first two were.

I too felt there was too much left to vague imagery which wasn't enough connected with the interior universe of thought and feeling, too many long adjectives and adverbs that didn't add terribly much for the space they took away. I think you need to keep in mind the unintelligibility factor and how easily it can render a good poem boring, even to a skilled reader. I know I'm as guilty of this as anyone. That said, I enjoyed it, some of your constructions were great, especially "more than sturdy planks spanning places I'll never go", I just wanted to get a firmer grasp on the essential core of what you were striving at, and I didn't feel you were letting me have it.

Hope I have been of some help
Last edited by Cacophonaut at Apr 27, 2011,
This was abstract, but I feel that's as much part of your style as any. Where you shine, in my opinion, is when you rein it in a little and make it accesible to your reader. I agree with Svetlova that the line "give me time to lose the ephemeral cogs in all their sublime diligence" gives very little to the reader to connect with. I imagine that you know exactly what this line is trying to get at, but for the reader, it's much more difficult.

That being said, I thought there was a lot of good stuff in here. The last stanza in particular was my favorite and something I could really relate to. This is an instance where you do wonders. Also, the "could we carry this dialogue into a new century with grace?" was so eloquently put. If you decide to edit this, be sure to not change a single about that.

And if you edit it, one thing I'd suggest would be to throw in some more concrete images. The "planks" line was great because I can envision wooden planks stretching each and every way from my windowsill out into the horizon. It's an interesting image and I think this piece could use a few more of those.

I always look forward to your stuff.
here, My Dear, here it is
...Oh I see what you did there. A person (or humanity as a whole) being just like words written on a piece paper - which can easily be erased or overstated - is quite a profound statement. The third stanza, to me, supports this idea. Also, it seem that the words have no origin or end - they are vulnerable to time itself. But the words themselves change with respect to whoever the reader is - but they still say the same story.

I enjoyed this.